Peter Sarstedt - Where Do You Go To My Lovely

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  • Опубликовано: 2 июн 2024
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    Final lyrics to this classic '69 song detects some bitterness to Marie-Claire but the fact that he thinks he can finally look inside her head is man that doesn't realise his limitations!
    So look into my face, Marie-Claire
    And remember just who you are
    Then go and forget me forever
    But I know you still bear the scar, deep inside, yes, you do
    I know where you go to, my lovely
    When you're alone in your bed
    I know the thoughts that surround you
    'Cause I can look inside your head
    Peter Sarstedt - Where Do You Go To My Lovely - Lyrics
    You talk like Marlene Dietrich
    And you dance like Zizi Jeanmaire
    Your clothes are all made by Balmain
    And there's diamonds and pearls in your hair, yes, there are
    You live in a fancy apartment
    Off the Boulevard St. Michel
    Where you keep your Rolling Stones records
    And a friend of Sacha Distel, yes, you do
    But where do you go to, my lovely
    When you're alone in your bed?
    Tell me the thoughts that surround you
    I want to look inside your head, yes, I do
    I've seen all your qualifications
    You got from the Sorbonne
    And the painting you stole from Picasso
    Your loveliness goes on and on, yes, it does
    When you go on your summer vacation
    You go to Juan-les-Pins
    With your carefully designed topless swimsuit
    You get an even suntan on your back, and on your legs
    And when the snow falls you're found in St. Moritz
    With the others of the jet set
    And you sip your Napoleon brandy
    But you never get your lips wet, no, you don't
    But where do you go to, my lovely
    When you're alone in your bed?
    Won't you tell me the thoughts that surround you?
    I want to look inside your head, yes, I do
    Your name it is heard in high places
    You know the Aga Khan
    He sent you a race horse for Christmas
    And you keep it just for fun, for a laugh, ha-ha-ha
    They say that when you get married
    It'll be to a millionaire
    But they don't realize where you came from
    And I wonder if they really care, or give a damn
    Where do you go to, my lovely
    When you're alone in your bed?
    Tell me the thoughts that surround you
    I want to look inside your head, yes, I do
    I remember the back streets of Naples
    Two children begging in rags
    Both touched with a burning ambition
    To shake off their lowly-born tags, they tried
    So look into my face, Marie-Claire
    And remember just who you are
    Then go and forget me forever
    But I know you still bear the scar, deep inside, yes, you do
    I know where you go to, my lovely
    When you're alone in your bed
    I know the thoughts that surround you
    'Cause I can look inside your head
    Na-na-na-na, na-na-na-na-na-na-na
    Na-na-na-na, na-na-na-na-na-na-na

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